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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717823">Discovering New Needs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Masturbation, Parent/Child Incest, Vaginal Fingering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:01:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,396</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24717823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosette seemed to have new needs. Needs Valjean wasn't sure he could help with without damning his soul twice over. But Valjean always chose Cosette.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cosette Fauchelevent/Jean Valjean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Discovering New Needs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I hadn't written anything that would send me to hell in a while, so here you go.<br/>Cosette's definitely underage here, but exactly how young is up to you, I guess.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Valjean sat up in his armchair when Cosette entered the sitting-room. His trousers got tighter right away and he almost choked on his shame. His fingers tightened on the book he was reading, the pages creaking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She thought she was so subtle, but he could see right through her: the way she walked, her adolescent hips swaying a little more than usual, her eyes coyly cast downward only to dart up and make sure he was following her every move. He was. God help him, he was.</p>
<p>How had she become this little seductress, this tantalizing minx who came down every night to torment him? Had he done something wrong raising her the way he had? They went to mass, they prayed daily, they lived in a convent - how much holier could one life be?</p>
<p>And yet… Like she had every evening for the past fortnight, Cosette came in wearing nothing but her linen nightgown, her hair down around her shoulders.</p>
<p>"Papa," she whined around a pout. Valjean hated that it made him aware of how lovely the turn of her mouth was. </p>
<p>"What is it?" he asked warily. </p>
<p>"I can't sleep." She sat on the padded arm of his armchair. "Can I read with you for a while?"</p>
<p>The first couple of buttons at the top of her nightgown had been left open. He swallowed convulsively, his throat parched, and his length gave an interested twitch, shame hot on its heels. He looked away from the modest cleavage.</p>
<p>"Not too long, you've got school with the sisters in the morning." His voice was so rough, it was a wonder she could understand him.</p>
<p>But understand him, she did, for she made an excited little noise and straddled her perch, gathering her nightgown closer so the top of her creamy thighs, the excess fabric bunched high between them and one bare foot on the floor while she tucked the other under his thigh. He'd made the mistake of asking her to behave properly once. "But Papa," she'd replied, "it's easier to sit like this, or I'd have to sit on your lap."</p>
<p>"What are you reading?" she murmured, so close to his ear her breath tickled his sideburns.</p>
<p>"A treatise on botany."</p>
<p>"Oh, it has illustrations, too, great!"</p>
<p>Her enthusiasm didn't fool Valjean for a second: that was when the torture started.</p>
<p>Like she did every night, she leaned closer to the book and let out the faintest wisp of a gasp. When he made no comment and kept his eyes on the page, Cosette (sweet, innocent Cosette) shifted her hips, just the tiniest bit. The first few times, Valjean had thought it accidental.</p>
<p>Then, when still her father remained silent, she moved again. And again. A small rocking motion, so minute you had to sit really close to notice it. Grinding down and forward, down and forward, again and again.</p>
<p>Every so often, she leaned further into him, gasping every time the angle changed, to turn a page or point something out to him.</p>
<p>"Oh, this… colour is lovely, Papa, isn't it?" she asked, more breathless than she had any right to be while reading about plants.</p>
<p>"It is," he choked. He had no idea what they were looking at anymore - if either of them was looking at anything at all.</p>
<p>Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, her hair now sliding in a chestnut cascade over her shoulders that made Boticelli's Venus look like an old hag, and her cheeks became rosier still in the orange glow of the fireplace. For a split second, he wondered if her nipples were the same colour.</p>
<p>His own body was in an uproar, his insides pulling him in a direction he could not take. His shaft throbbed and weeped inside his trousers. He prayed his vest would hide it and Cosette would remain none the wiser, or who knew what she could be capable of.</p>
<p>"Papa," she gasped softly.</p>
<p>That surprised him; she'd never addressed him during one of her whims before. </p>
<p>"What is it?" he asked, reluctantly devouring the enticing sight of her.</p>
<p>She rocked against the arm once, harder, her short fingernails digging into the upholstery. "Papa."</p>
<p>A lump lodged itself in Valjean's throat. Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips and he wished nothing more than to chase it with his, make her lips wetter, swell her mouth with hungry kisses.</p>
<p>She looked down at him, then; another novelty. So far she'd pretended nothing was amiss, that she wasn't behaving like a wanton. Like she didn't make his shaft strain behind his buttons. Her blue eyes had gone dark with lust, hooded and glassy in the dim light of the fire.</p>
<p>"Papa," she moaned brokenly, her eyes watering as her hips snapped forward once, sharp. "I need."</p>
<p>"What do you need?" His treacherous member pulsed in his trousers. She could have asked for the moon at that moment, he would have gone and fetched a thousand ladders to bring it back for her. </p>
<p>"Anything," she panted. "Your hand?"</p>
<p>The little temptress was gone; his Cosette was back. Unsure, shy - but mighty, lascivious. Valjean was frozen, unwilling to cross that last line. It was one thing to bear witness to your daughter pleasuring herself, but to help out? </p>
<p>"Cosette…"</p>
<p>"Please."</p>
<p>The sisters had always said he was too soft on her, that the child could make him eat out of the palm of her hand. Up until now, it hadn't been a problem.</p>
<p>His arm jerked of its own accord. Cosette saw it and ceased moving, chest heaving. A little hand left the armchair and wrapped around his elbow, guiding the heavy weight to her bunched-up nightgown slowly enough to allow him to turn towards her. Then she lifted herself up and lust-blown eyes bore into his.</p>
<p>He was going to Hell for this.</p>
<p>Pointedly not thinking about anything but pleasing Cosette, he slipped his hand underneath her, palm up.</p>
<p>Her core was burning hot and wet, although he only felt it through the material of her nightgown. The armchair under the back of his hand was damp, and the scent of her arousal tickled his nostrils. She was all around him.</p>
<p>She sat back on him with a moan.</p>
<p>"Oh, Papa."</p>
<p>She started thrusting against his hand with renewed vigour. Only his status as a mature man enabled him to keep his own climax at bay. Cosette seemed to forget about the rest of his body, focused as she was on making love to his hand.</p>
<p>Valjean could feel how taut her body was growing as she chased her pleasure, her intent unwavering, whining with frustration when it didn't climb fast enough. So he moved his fingers, searching for the pressure that would satisfy her the most.</p>
<p>"Papa!" she cried suddenly, picking up a furious rhythm. "Yes!"</p>
<p>"How often do you do this?" he whispered. He refused to blink, his eyes watering as he watched her, enraptured. He wasn't sure she'd heard him.</p>
<p>"Every day," she almost sobbed, bucking up and grinding down hard. "It's so much better with you here."</p>
<p>"God, Cosette, you've been driving me insane."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Papa, will you forgive me? Are you very cross?"</p>
<p>"No, no, of course not. The fault isn't yours."</p>
<p>She humped her aides with mounting agitation, Valjean's hand growing drenched, his length growing more painful, time suspended as Cosette seemed to hit a plateau, unable to reach her peak.</p>
<p>"Take what you need from me, Cosette, go on," he murmured breathlessly.</p>
<p>His plea got through to her and she reached behind him to sink her claws in his neck, then she bent down to take his mouth in the most unrefined, most enthusiastic kiss Valjean had ever received. He kissed her back, using her feverishness to push his tongue in her mouth and explore her the way he craved. A growl crawled up his chest all the way from his stiff shaft. She broke the kiss.</p>
<p>Cosette's hips snapped, fast and sharp, once then twice, until finally she fell still, madly quivering over his hand, taut as a bow. Her drawn-out moan echoed around the room forever. </p>
<p>She slumped into his side when the waves of pleasure receded. He combed his fingers through her hair as she slowly gained her breath back and gently kissed her sweaty hairline, murmuring soothing words into her skin.</p>
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